Card Keys
by aestheticisms
Summary: They opened a new storybook, and jumped in. - BlackWhite


**card keys**

(they opened a new storybook and leapt in.)

* * *

Black met the girl of his dreams on the subway that took him back to Anville Town from Nimbasa City. He breathed in the intoxicating city air; he let it fill his lungs up with secondhand smoke, and he let it out with a sigh. He ran a hand through his mocha-colored tresses, his dark eyes scanning the area for anything out of the usual. He sat in one of the seats, uncomfortable, with itchy fabric, and too little leg room. His legs were propped up on the headrest of the unfortunate couple in front of him. They shot identical scowls at the sixteen year old male, who simply scoffed, and rolled his eyes. The boy closed his eyes and allowed himself the pleasure of a quick nap.

Only to be interrupted by a hoarse "Is this seat taken?"

Black lazily opened his eyes, only to be completely shocked at what he found. He thought that the owner of the voice was an aged man, or woman who had been in the company of one too many cigarettes. Instead, the owner was a pretty brunette, with lips so red, so dark, they were tantalizing. Those lips distracted him from the rest of the girl, from her long, long legs, from her short shorts, from the rest of her flawed beauty. Her eyes were in a constant haze, a blue that mimicked the sky on a cloudy Nuvema Town day. She seemed disjointed at the limbs, for she was willowy, slender. She moved with the grace of a ballet dancer.

"No, of course not." Black immediately swung his legs off the headrest of the seats in front of him and scooted to the side, allowing the girl to slip into the chair next to him. Their thighs brushed, and he took the time to notice how much skin she was showing, too much skin for a girl that looked about his age. She wore torn stockings, the opaque fabric barely covered bruised flesh. Her shorts were maybe two inches long, and her tube top hugged her noticeable curves. A black vest acted as an ornamental piece. Everything else was skin: smooth, taut, stained porcelain skin.

Black shifted his gaze from her legs and adjusted his baseball cap. Couldn't let the girl see him blush, his cheeks were already tinted with a rosy pink. She seemed to be more interested in the window, her lips turned up at the corners, and a smile graced her (old, pretty, tarnished) face. Her fingers were long, nails painted an inky black. They tapped her side, a rhythmic one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four from a pop song Black used to listen to when he was a kid. His childhood was built on that song, whenever his mother would go and work on the trains with his father, they would turn on the radio, and let the top forty station belt out its tune, until closing time came around, and Black would be shooed home. From his bedroom window, he would watch his father kiss his mother goodbye, adjust his tie and coat, and leave to Nimbasa. Mr. Valkoinen was a Subway Master, he ran the lines on time, and defeated trainers with a powerful team. Black admired his father, for his dexterity, and for his might.

He wasn't any good with his hands, and he didn't cherish metalwork like his father, now an aged man with glittering trophies and ribbons stored in attic boxes. Black would work on the lines, shuttling people to and from their destinations, toward the right trains, right places, he would check their tickets, and passes, and find his place on the orange line, standing on the little step that jutted out of the caboose. He would wave a flag, telling one of the new Subway Masters it was time to go, and the train would lurch out of Anville, and toward the dark of the tunnels.

Today he had the day off. He went shopping for groceries in the city, took a look at the new C-Gear, and updated his Xtransceiver at the Pokemon Center. He got lost in the city crowds, let himself be taken far away, and ended up at the amusement park entrance. His Servine wanted to battle, so they challenged the Nimbasa Gym. Elesa was unforgiving, and Black went back to the subway station with a bruised ego, and a snippy servine.

And now, shopping bags under his seat, his servine asleep in its pokeball, he was sitting next to a gorgeous girl, who had taken his lack of conversational graces to light another cigarette, despite subway rules against it. She inhaled it like it was a life force, and expelled it like it repulsed her. She was a mystery, an intricate lace doily on a fired gun.

"So, where are you headed?" It took the boy a second to realize that was a stupid question. Everyone on this train was headed to Anville Town. He rephrased his question immediately. "I mean, uh, what're you looking for in Anville? It's a pretty small town, and uh, stuff..." his voice trailed on, words melting in the summer heat. The girl slowly tilted her head back, brown curls loosening from her high pony tail. They draped down her shoulder, and landed on her chest, and it took every ounce of self control for Black to keep his gaze from wandering. He was focused on her eyes, now looking at him with the slightest tinge of annoyance.

"I have a grandmother in Anville," she started, in that throaty croon. He tried not to cringe when the smoke entered his nostrils, and almost gave him a coughing fit. "she's dying, and I wanted to pay her a visit."

Black dipped his head low, for two reasons. One to show his respects, the other to hide his disappointment, she didn't live in Anville. This would be the last time he saw her, unless-

"I'm really sorry about your grandmother, um, if it makes you feel any better, well, my grandparents are all dead, and I really don't know how to deal with, oh my god I'm babbling, I'm sorry," He was cut off by her laughter, a mixture of high pitched giggles and gasps for air, her laughter was beautiful. She hugged her sides, and laughed, laughed, laughed.

He didn't think he was that funny. She was obviously overreacting.

"I'm, I'm sorry." She said in between chuckles. "My grandmother is a hag, she despises my family. I'm not really sorry she's dying. She never came to my father's funeral, anyway."

Black's eyes widened, and he reeled from the revelation. She was so standoffish, her words cruel. Even if he had a relative in disgrace, he would still keep a good face about it, this girl was basically condemning the older woman to hell.

"That doesn't sound very great, does it?" The girl smiled slightly, and crossed her legs. She adjusted her ponytail, picking up the wayward strands, and when she was done, she clasped her hands on her lap. "You don't need to say anything, your face is an open book."

He couldn't hide his blush fast enough.

"Um, I'm Black." He said, finally, while the train reeled to a stop. The other passengers grabbed their belongings, and headed toward the exits. The couple who gave him a dirty look was gone.

His subway partner grabbed her pink purse, and got up.

"White. It's been a pleasure."

She turned to go, her black boots took her farther away from him.

He needed to act fast. He lunged for his bags, and ran after her.

"Hey, White?" Black clutched the railing that kept passengers safe during their exit. His hat was on the verge of falling off, whatever hair was showing was disheveled, and the girl pivoted, blue eyes found his brown.

"Yeah?"

Black fumbled for words, but chanced upon the perfect sentence. "After you're done visiting your crazy grandmother-" this garnered a grin. "-want me to show you around?"

The train was beginning to move. The brunet jumped off, and landed on all fours. He quickly pulled himself together, dusted himself off, and the moment he looked up, White was already in front of him, lipstick in one hand, and a piece of paper in another.

She handed him the piece of paper.

"It's my number. Call me, or something." He took the piece of paper, and analyzed the digits, burned them to memory. "See you later, Black."

White disappeared in a flurry of smoke and people, her confident stride took her to a faraway destination, as Black watched her leave. His face broke into a grin, and he fist pumped the air, and despite her not being there to hear him, he bid her farewell.

"See you later, White."

* * *

**notes: awkward moment when i find this finished oneshot in my computer. oops! anyways, this is R. Vienna having an id crisis, thus the new pen name. **

**:) thank you for reading! **


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